He Doesn't Care
by amalspach
Summary: In which Keefe may or may not be in love with his best friend.


In which Keefe may or may not be in love with his best female friend. Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.

Also: Someone when I first posted this (thanks for catching that by the way) realized that there were some typos in here. Foxfire Academy was changed by my stupid autocorrect to Firefox, and Biana was changed to Bianca. If you see any more errors like that in here, I apologize ahead of time. I'm trying to fix them.

* * *

Keefe woke up with a gasp. He was heaving rather hard, not able to get a good breath. Shakily, the blond boy ran his hands through his hair. Trying to calm down, he sat up and held his head in his hands. ' _Not again,_ ' he thought with an internal sigh. He hadn't been able to sleep the past couple nights. and sadly enough, he knew why. Foster. He couldn't stop thinking about her; apparently not even in the dreamscape. And it bothered him quite a lot.

Why was it that he physically couldn't make himself stop thinking about her? Was it her long, wavy blond hair? Or perhaps the way she smiled, with the sides of her lips slightly upturned in a way that drove him nuts. Or maybe it was her eyes. That was probably it. The way her dark eyes glistened, the way they lit up whenever she . . . Gah!

Yup. She was everywhere. Foster would be the death of him. ' _But I don't like her like that,_ ' he told his traitorous heart firmly. Nope. There was no way he could possibly like Sophie like that. It was impossible. So, with a grunt of annoyance, he laid back down and pulled the covers over his shoulders. He still had another 5 hours until he had to get up, so Keefe might as well make the most of them.

* * *

The next day at school Keefe decided to do something. Nobody could mess with him; not even Sophie, not even in his sleep. Especially not in his sleep. Then it's personal. So he walked straight up to her, convinced that if he confronted her in real life she would stop lacing his thoughts all day. "Hi, Foster," he said, slouching against her neighbor's locker casually.

"Um, hi Keefe," she bit her lip, frowning at her own locker, which was refusing to open. She shoved against the door, but to no avail. As she fiddled with the dial she didn't give him one glance, leaving Keefe with nothing to do but stare at her. Even in her uniform, she looked so comfortable in her own skin. Relaxed, almost. Natural. It was kinda . . .

Nope nope nope. Not thinking about that right now. He cursed himself for being so easily distracted.

"So, how was your day?" Internally Keefe punched himself. Why, oh why, was he reverting to small talk with one of his best friends?

"Oh, uh, good," Her brow furrowed, her face pulled up into a scowl at this point.

"So . . . did your test go well?"

"No, I'm not in the mood to prank someone, Keefe," she huffed, not really hearing what he had said. Keefe blinked.

"I'm about to burn down the school with magical pyrotechnic abilities, Soph," he said casually, hoping to elicit a reaction.

"Open up already!" she shouted at her locker, banging the corner.

Keefe's jaw nearly dropped. She was barely even paying attention to him! Suddenly he was really jealous of the object of Sophie's almost undivided focus; the locker. He gruffly shoved her aside and punched the locker door hard. It swung open with a loud creak.

"Ouch," he muttered softly, grimacing as he held his now sore fist. Yeah, Keefe hadn't thought this one through. Or thought about it at all, really. Dammit, Foster. Sophie looked at the door and then back at Keefe before brightening significantly.

"That was incredible! How did you . . ." she trailed off and winced when she saw the sorry state his hand was in. "Never mind. We better get you to Elwin." And so, after unceremoniously depositing her things in her stubborn locker, Sophie began to walk Keefe to the school's medic. They slowly traveled down the stairs, through the hall to the left and into the main office, passing through Elwin's branch of the Foxfire Academy. Keefe made the mistake of glancing at his hand during the healing. He nearly threw up from both the disgust and the pain. But then a concerned Sophie, ever the loyal friend, leaned over and gripped his good hand. She gave it a comforting, sympathetic squeeze. His heart started beating faster as a result.

' _Relax,_ ' he told himself. ' _It's only Foster_.' But that didn't seem to cushion the erratic thumps coming from inside his chest. If anything it magnified them. He shook his head slightly, trying hard not to think about the (extremely pretty) girl still holding his palm. It couldn't mean anything. He thought of the blonde as just a friend . . . right?

* * *

The next week at school Keefe tried not to bolt when Foster came near. He really made a considerable effort. Unfortunately, though she had the audacity to act incredibly adorable whenever he was around. First she would tug her hair behind her ear and look up at him with those _eyes_ of hers at the same time and it was too much. Too much for his stupid, indecisive heart.

And then when she walked. Oh, gods. Keefe had never noticed how her hair seemed to swish slightly to the right like a curtain whenever she walked down the hall. It was mesmerizing. Any other guy would be gazing down at her legs, but it was her hair that had caught his attention. Figures. ' _She's easily the most attractive girl in school and I'm moony over her hair._ ' he thought somewhat miserably.

Then Keefe began to blush. Did he really just think that? ' _Well, it's true_!' he defended against his better judgement. She totally was. NOOOOO! She was infiltrating his mind again! He couldn't be around her. Not until this silly . . . well, whatever it was was gone. So he began to avoid her, ducking into the bathrooms, running down back hallways, and leaping into conversations with other people before Sophie could talk to him. But sadly enough, he couldn't avoid her forever.

It was unusually cold at Foxfire, and although he had successfully dodged Foster twice that day, Keefe was still keeping his guard up. There was no guarantee she wouldn't be around the corner, waiting to pounce . . . DING! The school day had ended, and Keefe ran back across the school to get his things and go home. Just as he was opening his locker, he felt a small hand on his back. It couldn't be . . .

"Sophie!" he jumped back in alarm. "What are you . . ." the words died in his mouth when he saw what she was wearing. Because in front of him, clad in her summer Foxfire skirt and leggings, was his friend. He couldn't see her shirt, however, due to the fact that it was covered up. By his sweater. And he really, really liked it. She looked down, tugging at the edges of the sweater, and a small blush blossomed on her face.

Sensing the question in the silence, she cleared her throat and said, "Yeah, well, I forgot my robe at home and Biana didn't have an extra, so I raided your locker." Keefe opened his mouth, but was cut off once again by Foster. "No, I didn't pry your locker open; we both know you always forget to shut it right and it ends up unlocked." The girl smirked at him in her usual good-natured way before the embarrassment found her again. "So . . . I borrowed your sweater for the day." Suddenly she seemed very nervous. "Is that okay? I mean, I know you've been avoiding me- Keefe, don't try to argue, I think that when someone sees you and bolts into a class that's already in session just to escape a conversation is a hint towards avoidance. Did I do something wrong, or . . ." He starred at her blankly. When she rambled she was . . . She was . . . ' _NO_ ,' he told himself, jolted abruptly from his brief daydream. ' _Not even going there_.'

"You didn't do anything, Soph. I just have a lot on my mind recently," He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward. Wow. Keefe wasn't awkward in front of the ladies. "And don't worry about the sweater thing. Just keep it. It looks good on you." ' _A little too good, if you ask me . . ._ '

"Great!" Foster beamed, a little confused, but happy that her best friend wasn't completely shunning her. "You're the best. See you tomorrow!" With that, she gathered up her stuff and leaned up on the tips of her toes. Then, before he realized what was going on, Sophie kissed Keefe on the cheek. He stood there, frozen stiff, for the longest time, honestly thinking that somewhere along the way he had died. But when he blinked, his friend had already dashed down the hall, anxious to get home. He laughed shakily. He was a mess. But he could shrug this one off like all the other times. It couldn't possibly mean anything to him . . . could it?

* * *

The ultimatum, end of all things choice came delivered right from the mouth of Foster herself the next night, just as school was ending. Her locks swished behind her as she ran down the hall, stopping next to Keefe.

"So," she started. "Tonight is movie night. What are you bringing?" Keefe swore inside his head. Had he really forgotten such a sacred tradition?

2 years ago Keefe, Sophie, Biana, and Fitz had had a movie marathon at the Vacker estate. The 3 elves hadn't known what a movie was, and Sophie had been so appalled she brought a 'portable DVD player' and 'discs', hoping to educate her misguided friends. It had gone so well that they decided to hold it at Sophie's house, and then that Vacker place again (two kids and all), and then Keefe's. Now every month the group would get together for movie night. Often it was just the four of them, unless Dex or Jensi or someone else wanted to join in. It had become special. He winced internally. This was a new low.

"You didn't . . . forget, did you?" Foster asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed. When Keefe looked down and scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe, her eyes, in a rather opposite fashion, widened quickly. "You didn't!" She shook her head with disapproval. "You better bring the popcorn, Mister. Remember, it's at my house this time!" As he watched her retreat, he slunk back into the lockers, slipping to the floor and groaning. Movie night with Sophie and the gang. What could possibly go wrong?

' _A lot, apparently,_ ' he thought two hours later as Sophie got off of her communicator with Fitz. "They aren't coming," she pronounced grimly. "Biana got sick and is puking her guts out, and Fitz is taking care of her. She told us to watch her movie, though, or she will come over here and throw up on us." Her nose crinkled up in an adorable way, although she was beyond disgusted. ' _Is there anything she does that isn't perfect?_ ' Nope, he still hadn't found a weakness yet. ' _Wait, what did I just think?_ ' Keefe wondered. His thoughts were getting progressively cheesier. He needed to snap out of it.

"What is this movie anyways? It must be pretty bad, if Biana picked it out." He didn't expect Foster to respond, but she did.

"It's called When Harry Met Sally, and before you can ask, and I know you were going to, it is a romantic movie, but it is first and foremost a comedy, and a good one at that. So you," she lightly poked his chest, "Are going to sit down and listen."

"Okay," he shrugged. Most of Sophie's movie choices were decent, so it couldn't be that bad. Half an hour later he deemed that it wasn't. For a romance movie, or a rom-com, as Biana so affectionately referred to it, it was pretty good. And the fact that Sophie's hands were brushing against his for the majority of the film so far hadn't been bad, either. A second after that thought, Foster got up, her hand straying away from his. He frowned.

"Hey, what are you . . . Oh." He swallowed hard, because Foster had removed her pants and was walking around in only her thin purple shirt, a bra, and her underwear. She grabbed her pajama bottoms, which consisted of a pair of short shorts, off of her bed and she pulled them on. It didn't do much to dissuade Keefe's thoughts.

"Why," Foster asked, a weird look on her face, "Are you staring at me like that? Do you not feel good, or . . ." Then she glanced down at her legs, and back at Keefe, and she understood. "So? You've seen me walk around in less before. Remember? At the pool a couple months ago?" He nodded slowly, his mouth rather dry.

' _But I didn't think about you like_ that _before . . ._ ' He finished in his head. But instead of saying that, he turned his head around and said, "Okay. I'll just be watching the movie . . . yup."

"I'm just going to finish changing while you're looking away then." With that, she threw of her shirt. Keefe winced as it flew next to him on the couch. He wiggled away lightly. Amused, Sophie threw her pants right next to him, only on the other side.

"Oops!" she laughed as Keefe jumped off the couch and away nearly 5 feet. He had also turned around by accident, but by then, her shirt was already on; a loose white tank top.

"You're lucky I'm decent," she teased, pulling him back onto the couch and sitting right next to him. Then, just to make him even more uncomfortable, the blond cuddled up to him and pulled a blanket over herself, head resting on his shoulder.

At this point, Keefe was utterly panicked. How did harmless movie night turn into him and Sophie, alone and watching a romantic comedy, pressed together and under blankets? The whole prospect was terrifying. But, in a strange sort of way, kind of nice.

Soon, though, lulled to sleep by the credits, Sophie slumped asleep on his shoulder. He quickly slipped his arm around her waist. ' _But only because I don't want her to fall forwards_.' And then he picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to her bed. ' _But only because I don't want her to be whining about how I abandoned her on the couch in the morning_.' Finally, he tucked her in her bed gently, pulling up the sheets and swiping her hair behind her neck. Because . . . because . . . okay, well maybe he didn't have an excuse for this one, but he was tired and probably not thinking straight. As he got up to go unroll his sleeping bag and hit the hay, he saw Sophie shiver from the corner of his eye. He sighed.

"The things I do for you, Foster," he murmured before getting back into her bed, curling around her, and falling asleep.

* * *

"Not again!" Fitz moaned loudly. "Seriously, cut it out, already!"

"What? What am I doing?" Keefe asked back, confused. They were at the Vacker residence, playing video games after school. For Fitz's birthday Sophie had (illegally) gone to the human world and bought mysterious things called a flatscreen and a X-box. The boys had instantly been hooked. Base Quest honestly had nothing on Mario Kart.

"Thinking about her. Again. Dude, it has to stop. She's got you so whipped and she doesn't even know it."

"Who, pray tell?" Keefe prodded, feigning disinterest.

"Sophie, duh." responded Fitz with a roll of his eyes. He put down his controller and paused the game. "Who else?"

"What do you mean, whipped, though? She's . . . you know, Sophie," Keefe protested. Now Fitz began to stare.

"We all know you have a thing for her; you know, all of us except for her." He still received a blank face. Fitz sighed. "You know how you stare at her when she isn't looking, and how you get this gleam in your eye when we bring her up, or even how you get that dreamy look on your face when you think about her." He paused for a second, and Keefe began to daydream. ' _Sophie, huh? I wonder what she's doing right now . . ._ '

"SEE! Oh my gosh, you just did it again. You were thinking about her, weren't you?" the dark haired boy smiled triumphantly, so sure that he had caught his friend.

"No . . ." Keefe muttered. Fitz looked less than convinced.

"Let's go to a mirror. You have to see your own face." As he shoved Keefe down the hall and into a bathroom he shook his head as if in disbelief. He positioned his friend in front of the mirror, his hands over Keefe's eyes. "Now look." He removed his palms.

Keefe was shocked to see not his trademark grin but a dopey smile and eyes that were scarily bright. He stepped back in utter horror. "I look like . . . like _this_ around her?"

"Yeah," Fitz shrugged. "All the time. Think she would have noticed by now, huh? It's pretty obvious."

"But I don't like her like _that_ , right Fitz? You know that I don't, right?" he pleaded to his best friend, who looked taken aback.

"You seriously are denying it?" he scoffed. Then realization dawned on him. "You really didn't know that you liked her?"

"Of course I don't! She's my other best friend!" Fitz frowned, shocked by the revelation but not prepared to show his surprise.

"Fine then. Stay in denial. But please cut out the weird smile. As much as I like Sophie, I really don't need my best friend thinking about 24/7, especially when we're in the middle of video game time."

"You . . . like like Sophie?" Keefe asked, suddenly blood-boiling mad. He had no idea why, but he curled his fingers into a fist.

"NO!" Fitz said, slightly scared and with wide eyes. "Gross! She's like my sister!" He shuddered. "That would be so weird."

"Good," Keefe responded, letting out a visible puff of relief. Fitz stared at his friend, disapproval written all over his face. "What?" he demanded under the steady gaze of the dark haired Vacker.

"Oh, nothing," he sighed. "I just never realized how strange you are until now. Let's just go back to playing video games." And with that, he pulled Keefe back to the console and picked up his remote.

* * *

"It was terrible! The worst experience of my life!" Sophie shrieked, running into Keefe's room and throwing her arms around his neck. he was utterly shocked. What with Fitz's sudden interest in Keefe's love life and not knowing what the heck had just happened to cause his best (female) friend to come sobbing into the house, he was completely at a loss emotionally.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, smoothing down Foster's long hair. "It's alright. Now tell me everything. What happened tonight?" She sniffled for a few minutes longer, still wrapped up in his arms, until she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"Okay, so it started out as a normal day, until some random guy from one of my classes asked me out." She paused for a moment, in which Keefe stoked the growing red-hot anger in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know whether it was from the fact that a guy made Sophie this way or whether it was out of irrational jealousy. Either way, he kept quiet.

"And?" he asked. "I won't every tease you about this, you know that, right?" There was silence for a moment.

"Yeah, I know," she responded miserably. "Anyways, there I was, waiting after school, and he showed up at my house with another girl. Another random girl! And she was clinging to him and everything." Sophie looked down, a few silent tears slipping out. "But that wasn't the worst part! The worst part was when he leaned down, pulled back her hair, and told the girl that he loved her. Right in front of the house! And then he kissed her on the cheek and sent her off."

"He did that?" Keefe continued incredulously. "Knowing that you were right inside?" He was totally going to nail this guy later. And suddenly, Sophie was a system of waterworks again.

"Is there something wrong with me? Am I not good enough for the random guy in my third period class?" There was a tone of desperation in her voice as she spoke to him, now pulling him to the floor with her. "Nobody's ever going to want someone like me, are they? Because I'm too different. Because I've got brown eyes and human parents and ties to the Black Swan." This broke Keefe rather hard. It tore him in two. However, for once in the last couple weeks, he finally had found clarity in Foster's suffering.

"I do," Keefe muttered gently, almost so quietly that she couldn't hear him. And so, with tears in her eyes and a determined expression on his face, he lifted her chin and kissed her; full on the lips, not a peck. At first it was just his lips on hers, but after a moment of contemplation, she gave in, deepening it. The kiss was probably only a few seconds long, but it felt like forever. How could he have seriously thought that his (very obvious) crush on her had been nothing? And why, oh why, had he been so bothered by it?

Keefe seriously thought that he might have died and gone to heaven until she pulled away. Nope, still alive. Foster was still alive; no one who was dead could respond to a kiss like _that_ , and so therefore his heart hadn't failed yet.

"That," she murmured. "Was a good first kiss." Then she turned around and punched him.

"Ow!" he protested. "What did I do in the last five second to get you so mad at me?" She smirked, followed by a long laugh.

"I've had a mild crush on you since last year, Keefe," she grinned. "But then you, being your oblivious self, never did anything. Now I guess this means you liked me back." Her eyes were very soft, all traces of the sadness from earlier swept away. "I thought I would have to be 70 before you woke up and smelled the roses."

"Yeah, well," he said sheepishly. How had he not known Sophie had had a thing for him? And after the events of the last month, too? "You know I can be a little slow."

"Slow doesn't begin to cover it," Sophie snorted. "But you'll have to do. I might just keep you around."

"Really?" Keefe asked.

"Of course, stupid. You're my best friend, aren't you? Aside from Dex and Biana. They would kill me if I didn't mention them." He shoved her, grinning widely.

"I'd hope so, Foster."

* * *

Of course, now there was the problem of the evil, no-good, dirty rotten, annoying, anonymous guy in Sophie's class that Keefe so desperately wanted to pulverize. But, as it turned out, he wasn't so bad after all . . . at least, based off of the events of the following day. With Foster at his side, Keefe walked her to her locker, right before second period. On it was a note; in incredibly bad handwriting, though.

"What does it say?" questioned the blond girl, not adept at reading boys' messy handwriting. Keefe, proud to be useful, picked it off of the door and began to recite it.

"'Sorry last night didn't work out, Sophie. I had to take my kid sister directly from Firefox because she lost her crystal. When I got to the door, you weren't there. Anyways, you want to try again tonight? From, Brendan.'" She grinned broadly, happy that it was just a misunderstanding (and that she wouldn't have to silently glare at the offending classmate all throughout third period). Keefe suddenly felt rather nervous, although most of (if not all) the hatred he felt towards this nameless boy was gone.

"So were you planning on taking him up on his offer?" He asked in a small voice. Her brown eyes latched onto pale blue.

"No way! Besides," she remarked, putting her hands around his neck. "I already have a boyfriend," She pulled down his face and kissed him hard, right in front of the whole school; or, at the very least, whoever managed to see them in the hallway. And, even though it was sorta embarrassing and some people were starting to come over, Keefe found only one thing to be true about the whole scene; he really, really didn't care.


End file.
